


Blessed Are The Cheesemakers

by decadent_mousse



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cheesemaker, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2015-01-11
Packaged: 2018-03-07 05:05:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3162323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/decadent_mousse/pseuds/decadent_mousse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermann and Newt are both critically acclaimed cheesemakers and have been pen pals for some time.  A cheese festival finally gives them the opportunity to meet in person.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blessed Are The Cheesemakers

**Author's Note:**

> Like many of my AUs, this was born from a Twitter conversation with my friends. Any cheesiness is 99.9% intentional!

Hermann knew the competition was going to be fierce at the cheese festival this year.  The Kaidonovskys were confirmed to be making an appearance and their cheese was famous – some might even say _legendary_ – for being both sharp and flavorful.  There was also Mako Mori, a young new cheesemaking prodigy whose cheese Hermann had heard showed great promise.  

He continuously checked the ever-growing roster of cheesemakers that were going to be attended prior to the event, telling himself he was simply being practical – sizing up the competition.  That is, until the day he saw the name ke'd kept telling himself he hadn't been scanning the roster for every day for the past two weeks.

_Newton Geiszler._

Approximately two years ago, Mr. Geiszler had emailed him concerning a magazine article Hermann's cheese had been featured in.  Ever since then, they had corresponded regularly via email and often had passionate conversations about cheese.  Many of Newt's methods were somewhat... unorthodox, but the popularity of the cheese he produced spoke for itself.  The man's passion for cheese rivaled his own, and Hermann had delighted in finally finding someone who didn't get a glazed look in their eyes when he started talking about his recipes and bacteria cultures – though he hadn't actually _seen_ Newton's eyes yet.

He was going to be there, at the festival.  The last Hermann had heard, Newton had still been undecided about whether or not he was going to attend.  At last, they were going to meet face-to-face.

~

There were far more people at this year's festival than there had been at the last four Hermann had attended – no doubt a result of the hype surrounding some of the individuals in attendance.  A less confident person might be worried, but Hermann had faith in his abilities.  His family's cheese recipes had stood among the best in the country – if not the _world –_ for generations, and he had improved on them even further in recent years.

He found himself scanning the faces in the crowd, looking for one face in particular.  It was like looking for a needle in a haystack, though.  There were simply too many people to be able to spot a specific face that he had only ever seen in photographs that he was reasonably certain were close to a decade old.  Besides, it was still early – it was entirely possible that Newton hadn't even arrived yet.

He admitted to himself that, yes, he was _slightly_ nervous.

By noon he was fairly confident everyone had arrived who was going to arrive.  He scribbled a brief note explaining his absence, stuck it by a nearby platter of cheese, grabbed his cane, and set off to see if he could find his elusive pen pal.

It didn’t take long to find him, because bizarrely enough out of all the cheese stalls, his had the _worst_ selection he had ever seen.  It certainly wasn’t what he would have expected from the man he had come to know – admittedly from a distance – but the ostentatious sign hanging above of the stall did indeed say–

“Newton Geiszler’s House of Cheese?” Hermann muttered to himself incredulously, staring at the sweeping colorful lines of the lettering with a growing sense of unease.  

He stepped closer, taking a look at some of the equipment that occupied the stall.  There was a bright, gleaming monstrosity that Hermann did not immediately recognize as something with which cheese could be made.  He hadn’t realized he had reached out towards it until he heard a voice squeak indignantly behind him.

He half-turned, and had only a moment to take in the sight of Newton Geiszler in the flesh, at last, before that moment went down in flames.

"Hey!" the tattooed cheesemaker exclaimed, swatting his hand away.  "That's sensitive cheese-making equipment, dude!  You can look, but don't touch!"

Hermann scowled.   _This_ was the esteemed Newton Geiszler, creator of six of _Cheese!_ Magazine's Twenty Most Popular Cheeses of 2013?  He was unimpressed.  More than that, he was disappointed.  

“I was unaware that butter churns were ‘sensitive’ equipment,” Hermann sneered.  An _electric_ one, no less, he noted with disgust.  The motor did all the work, there was no actual skill involved.

“Wow, _excuse_ you, pal!  I brought an electric one because unlike _some_ people around here, my cheese is _highly_ coveted and I’m going to need to work hard to keep up with the demand today.”

He hadn’t realized he’d said that last part out loud.  He wasn’t sure whether to attempt to apologize, flee the scene, or smack the fool over the head with the nearest ladle.  “Er.”

“Who the hell do you think you _are,_ anyway?”

Hermann regained his composure, decided _not_ to hit Newton - _Mr. Geiszler_ \- with the ladle, and said, “Gottlieb.  Hermann Gottlieb.”

“You’re-” Newton stopped and blinked, eyes widening behind his glasses as his brain registered what Hermann was saying.

“Leaving?  Yes,” Hermann hissed, feeling a combination of disappointed and embarrassed - both at this entire debacle and the fact that he’d naively imagined this meeting going _very_ differently.  

He spun around and started walking away as fast as he could short of _running_ back to his cheese stall.

“H-Hermann!  Hey, wait!”

Hermann ignored him.

~

Several hours later and five minutes after Hermann had tiredly slumped into a chair, Newton showed up looking apologetic and wielding a large block of cheese.

“Uh, hi.”

“Mr. Geiszler.”

“Oh, so it’s ‘Mr. Geiszler’ now?”

Hermann wondered if he sank deep enough into the chair if he could just disappear into it entirely and avoid this awkward conversation.  “How else would I refer to a colleague?”

“Well, in- in our emails you would usually call me Newton.  Which, okay, still kind of makes me feel like I was corresponding with my mom or something, but–”  He caught himself and shook his head.  “Look, earlier you caught me off-guard and some of the cheese I’d planned on bringing didn’t ripen right, so I was stressing out–”

“What do you want?”

“Dude, I’m trying to _apologize_.”

“And not doing a particularly good job of it.”

“Come on, Hermann, I came bearing brie.”

He sighed and leaned forward, taking the cheese Newt offered.  Their fingers brushed against each other.

Hermann cleared his throat and took a sudden keen interest in examining the cheese.  “Yes, well, thank you.”

“So do you forgive me?”

God help him, it was honestly hard not to with him beaming at him like that.  “I suppose so.”

Newt rubbed the back of his neck nervously.  “Look, let’s start over.  You, uh– you should come by my place tonight and taste my cheese.”

He raised an eyebrow.  “I beg your pardon?”

“Well, the cheese I’d wanted to bring the festival today didn’t work out, but I have some other stuff that I thought you might like to check out?  Maybe?  I could show you my equipment.”

Hermann opened his mouth.

“Uh, my _cheese-making_ equipment.  The stuff.  That I make the cheese with.  Is what I meant.”  Considering the rather bright shade of red that was spreading across Newton’s face, Hermann wasn’t entirely sure that that _was_ what he had meant.  Nevertheless…

“Alright.”

~

Newton’s “place” was a small apartment located above a shop sporting the same name as his stall at the festival and the logo consisted of a dubious-looking cartoon goat holding a wheel of cheese.  The creature’s eyes were wide with what was likely supposed to be glee, but it mostly looked like it was planning on gleefully bludgeoning someone to death.  Hermann wasn’t sure who he was more embarrassed for, the man who owned the establishment or himself for going on a _date_ with this man.

Was it a date?  Good lord, he wasn’t entirely sure.  Perhaps he’d misunderstood Newton’s intentions.  He wasn’t even certain whether he was supposed to meet Newton in the store itself or go up to the apartment, or–

He spotted movement through the window of the store and there was Newton, laying a couple platters of cheese on a table and taking a step back to examine his handiwork, running a hand through his already quite disheveled hair.  He was wearing a button-up shirt and pants so tight they looked painted on.  

Hermann didn’t realize he’d been staring until Newt glanced up and spotted him, freezing for a moment before waving at him with a warm smile on his face.  Hermann tried to will his stomach to stop flopping around.  It wouldn’t do to vomit nervously mere moments before eating.

Newton greeted him at the door, smile growing into a grin that, up close, Hermann could tell was almost as nervous as he felt.  “Hi.”

“Hello.”

“Did you find the place okay?”

“I took a wrong turn a couple streets back, the street sign was rather faded.”

“Oh yeah, that.  It really needs to be fixed.  I think that’s probably why I don’t get more business, actually.”

Hermann didn’t have the heart to suggest the nightmarish goat on his shop’s sign might also have played a role in deterring potential customers.

“I mean,” Newt continued hastily, “I do okay for myself, and I ship cheese from coast to coast, so–”  He shook his head.  “Uh, I didn’t invite you over to talk about business.  Come on.”  

He guided Hermann over to the table he’d been preparing a moment ago.  “Okay, so I’ve got a pretty good selection laid out over here.”

Newton pulled out a chair for him with a bright smile.  Hermann nodded appreciatively and glanced around the room as he sat.

The interior of the shop had a quaint, homey sort of atmosphere.  It felt more like someone’s home kitchen than someone’s place of business.  The only thing that took away from the atmosphere somewhat – aside from that goat outside – was the row of menus attached to the wall behind the counter, but even those were styled in such a way that they looked more like a part of the scenery of the interior.  The items listed there were handwritten in a messy but still legible script – Newton’s handwriting, he assumed – in several different colors of chalk.

“Have you been here for long?”

Newton sat in the chair across from him.  “Uh, not all that long.  I moved here about three years ago, and I opened this place around… nine or ten months ago?  It was a bakery before that, and the guy who ran it was eager to retire, so he gave me a pretty good deal on the place.”

Hermann had a stall he rented at the local farmer’s market back home, and filled some special orders for a few customers from time to time, but he didn’t operate anything quite on this scale.  When Newton had mentioned he had started a cheese business, it hadn’t occurred to him that it was a full-fledged store until he had pulled up outside.

He cleared his throat.  “So, what’s so special about this cheese you’ve been carrying on about?”

Newt gave him a cocky grin.  “All these these cheeses you see in front of you?  My own recipes, my own takes on the same tired crap every other cheese place sells.”

Hermann gave him a pointed look.

“I didn’t mean _you_.  I mean, obviously.  I’m talking about all those chain grocery stores that churn out processed blocks of cheese and act like it’s some gourmet achievement, dude.  This stuff– this stuff’s the real deal.  Don’t get me wrong, the traditional stuff a lot of the guys at the festival make is tasty and all, but in this day and age there’s no excuse not to experiment, y’know?  Mix things up a little.  These are one hundred percent original blends of flavors.”

“Originality doesn’t necessarily guarantee good-tasting cheese.”

Newt scoffed.  “Maybe not, but _I_ guarantee it.  Have a little faith, Hermann.”

It occurred to him that if this _was_ a date, playing cheese critic probably wasn’t the best way to go about the situation.  He supposed he could afford a bit of a leap of faith.  Besides, despite Newton’s occasionally unorthodox cheese theories and methods, he _was_ a prominent and popular cheesemaker with good reason.

He picked up one of the small forks Newton had left on the table.  

“Is there any particular one I should start off with?”

Newt leaned forward across the table and pointed.  “Well, that one–”

Hermann gently forked a cube of the cheese and put it in his mouth.

“–is a little spicy, you might want to work up to it.”  Newton’s eyes widened.  “Uh.  Oops.  You look kinda– are you okay, man?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but no sound came out.  The longer he chewed the cheese, the hotter it felt – as though the surface was a bit milder than the _inferno_ that was the main body of the cheese.  He swallowed it in hopes that the burning would subside a bit, but all he succeeded in doing was setting his throat on fire as well.  The sensation intensified, and his throat constricted and he briefly wondered if he had developed a sudden and violent allergy to dairy products.

“Just hold on, okay?  I’ll get you something to drink.”

Newton all but fled the room.

~

The rest of their date went blessedly smoothly, despite that initial speed bump.  At least half or more of Newton’s cheese selection was on the spicy side, though none quite as catastrophically as the one Hermann had first sampled.  

“I call that one ‘The Category Five,’” Newton said.  “Y’know, like how they grade hurricanes?”

“Very apt.”

It turned out to be not so bad when he heeded Newton’s belated advice to work up to it.  With the other cheeses to cut the spiciness, he was able to try it again with far less disastrous results and better sample the actual flavor of the cheese.

The rest of their night was spent eating the rest of the cheese and talking.  It wasn’t much different from the conversations they’d been having online for the better part of two years, though with the added benefit of it being in the flesh.

Hermann couldn’t remember the last time he’d been on such an enjoyable date.

Newt smiled.  "I'm really glad you came."  
  
"So am I."  
  
Newt grinned at him brightly – beamed, really – and the sight of it made both his heart and stomach flutter alarmingly.  That or the cheese had given him a rather abrupt case of indigestion.  
  
"Are you gonna be in town for long, or...?"  
  
"I'll be here for the duration of the festival.  After that, I did plan on returning home."  
  
The idea of putting thousands of miles between them suddenly seemed very unappealing, even though Hermann knew that was ridiculous.  He had only just met the man.  Although their correspondence had nurtured a degree of familiarity over the years.  
  
"The distance isn't so far that occasional visits would be out of the question," Hermann replied.  
  
Newt's eyes lit up.  "Yeah?"  
  
Hermann took another bite of cheese and hoped Newton would mistake his flushed face for a reaction to the zestiness of the cheese.  "Perhaps I could show you _my_ facilities sometime."  
  
"I'd like that."  
  
Newton fidgeted a bit before tentatively reaching across the table and brushing his fingers lightly across Hermann's.  Hermann's face was burning so fiercely he faintly wondered if he _was_ allergic to something in the cheese.  When he didn't flinch or pull away, Newton grew bolder and laid his hand over his.  
  
"Y'know, if you're gonna be in town all week, we could… go out somewhere.  Together, I mean.  I could show you the sights and stuff.  Maybe– maybe take you to dinner."

“That sounds delightful.”

~

Hermann didn’t have much time to spend with Newton during festival hours.  The first day had been slow, with the cheesemakers still slowly trickling into town and setting up, but by Tuesday everyone was settled in and ready for business and it felt like the population of the entire city was in attendance.  By midday, Hermann’s reserves of both physical and social energy were running low, yet somehow every time he passed by Newton’s stall, he was enthusiastically peddling his cheese like a man possessed – no less enthusiastic than he had been fresh in the morning.

Wednesday, during a lull in the activity when they were both taking a break he finally asked, “How, do you do it?”

Newton sat a thermos on the table and gave him a sly wink.  Hermann picked it up and unscrewed the lid.  The smell that rose up out of it was ungodly.

He sniffed and immediately recoiled.  “What _is_ this?”

“It’s like… fifty-fifty coffee, a can of Monster, and one of those five-hour energy drinks.”

“That’s fifty-fifty-fifty, Newton.  That’s not mathematically correct.  Is this even safe to ingest?”

“Well, I haven’t dropped dead yet!”

Hermann hardly found that reassuring.  

“I could bring extra for you tomorrow, if you want.”

“Er, no thank you.”

~

That night, they went on another date – and this time Hermann _was_ sure that it was a date.  The boardwalk was bustling with activity, despite the late hour.  There were far more people than Hermann particularly cared for, but they were mostly self-contained, enjoying their own evenings – just as he was enjoying his.

“ _That_ place, over there.”

Hermann looked in the direction Newton was enthusiastically pointing at.

“When I was a kid, it was this organic grocery store, and it had some of the _best_ cheese I’d ever eaten.  My uncle used to go there every Tuesday, and I’d tag along.  When it went out of business, I got mad and looked up how to make homemade cheese.  It started out as a hobby – uh, a really messy hobby, I pretty much destroyed our kitchen – but then my _dad_ started sharing the cheese with our neighbors, and next thing I knew the whole neighborhood wanted some.  I was getting pretty good at it, so I figured… why not just keep making cheese, y’know?  Then it kinda ended up being my life.  Funny how things work out.”

“My family has been producing cheese for generations.  It always went without saying that I’d follow in their footsteps.”

“You like it, though, right?  I’ve read all those emails a hundred times, and I’ve seen how excited you’ve been at the festival.  That’s not _all_ just upholding the family name, right?”

“…A hundred times?”

“My _point_ is, you have a lot of good ideas about cheese, and you seem pretty enthusiastic about it.”

“I am.”

While it was true he’d been pressured by his family into carrying on with the family business, he truly did enjoy his work.  He didn’t do what he did purely out of obligation, otherwise he doubted he would still be doing it.

“Wow, hey!”  

Newt’s exclamation startled Hermann out of his train of thought.  “What?  What is it?”

“Dude, come with me.  There’s something you have to try before you fly back home.  It’s like a rite of passage.”

Hermann found himself dragged to a what appeared to be a glorified hot dog stand.  Before he could protest, Newt was getting out his wallet excitedly and tossing a crumpled ten at the vendor, then Hermann suddenly found himself with a hot dog thrust in his face.

“Newton, I must confess I’m not much of a hot dog person.”

“You can’t leave without trying one these.”

“What’s so special about this, exactly?”

“It’s not something I can just _explain_ to you, dude, you’ve gotta see for yourself.”

Hermann stared at the hot dog dubiously.  

“C’mon, have a little faith!  When have I ever steered you wrong?”

“Last summer you told me to put _dust mite excrement_ in my cheese.”

“Hey, that was good advice!  That cheese ended up being a best-seller!”

Well, he wasn’t wrong.

Hermann sighed and warily bit into the hot dog.

Newt grinned at him.  “Well?”

“It’s… not entirely terrible.”  It wasn’t.  He’d even go as far as to say it tasted _good_.

“See?  I told you it was great.”

“‘Great’ may be overstating it.”

Several hot dogs and no small amount of indigestion later, Newton dragged him to a local movie theater and they spent the rest of the night watching old sci-fi movies.

~

“Well, there’s your flight.”

“Yes.”

Hermann had never been much good at goodbyes.  He stood there awkwardly, not quite knowing what to say – or even if he should say anything.  Perhaps a simple goodbye would have sufficed in some situations, but it seemed rather inadequate after spending a week with Newton.

Newton seemed to be at as much of a loss, which was somewhat comforting. 

“Don’t eat the nuts.”

Hermann blinked.  “What?”

“The nuts.  On the plane.  I don’t know if you tried any on your way here, but if you didn’t you totally dodged a bullet, dude.  They’ll give you nasty gas.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Have a safe flight.”

“Drive safe.”

“I will.”

They stood there for a few more moments.  Despite Hermann’s best efforts, it was indeed becoming awkward.

“Goodbye, Newton.”

“Y-yeah.  Bye.”

He headed towards the door that would lead him to the plane.

“Hermann, wait!”

He turned around.

Newt gave him a sheepish look.  “You know, I thought about waiting a couple minutes then running down the hall after you for dramatic effect, but then I realized _realistically_ I’d probably get tackled by a security guard halfway there, and have you seen those guys?  I think they probably play pro football on their days off, so uh…”

He trailed off, then seemed to abruptly grow a couple inches taller.  Before Hermann had time to wonder why Newton had suddenly decided to stand on the tips of his toes, he was being kissed.  Very little about Newt was what Hermann would call soft or gentle, but that kiss was.  As though he was unsure of what he was doing or, perhaps, unsure whether it was welcome or not.  

“I just didn’t want you to go without–  Was that okay?  I mean, not the _kiss_ – I mean, was it okay that I kissed you, I’m not asking if it was good or not, because I’m pretty conf–”

Hermann kissed him.  He may have been… slightly… more passionate in his display than Newton had been.

Someone nearby cleared their throat loudly, and they separated hurriedly.  Hermann glanced to his left to see a flight attendant giving them a stern look.

“Hey, excuse me,” Newt said to the disgruntled airport employee.  “He’s my sort of boyfriend, okay?”

Hermann gazed at him.  “‘Sort of’ boyfriend?”

“Well, I mean.  I wasn’t really sure if–”

“Sir,” the flight attendant interjected, “if you don’t board soon, you’re going to miss your flight.”

“Call me when you get home.”

“I will.”

Hermann grasped the handle of his luggage and continued on down the corridor, much to the flight attendant’s relief.  

~

He settled into his seat and glanced out the window.  The usual pre-flight monologue about rules and regulations droned on, but he wasn’t really listening.  There, staring wistfully out the large windows of the nearby building, was Newton.  Hermann was certain he couldn’t possibly see him, but then Newt’s gaze wandered and he straightened with a grin and waved.

He tentatively waved back.  

Newt nodded and took a step backwards, and nearly tripped over a nearby chair.  

Hermann shook his head with a fond sigh.


End file.
